Appearances
by Child of Loki
Summary: aka Detective Lupo and the Prostitute. Everyone knows appearances can be deceiving, but what exactly about this woman bothers Lupo so? Chapter 3-Close quarters and the value of a name.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Law & Order or its characters… **

**Author's note: I seem to be the only Lupo Lover around these parts, but I was compelled to write this nonetheless…and hey, why not share?**

Oh, she had all the trappings of a prostitute, but something about her just didn't sit right with Detective Cyrus Lupo. It wasn't any blatantly obvious characteristic, rather something subtle, small and nagging that aroused his suspicion.

The clothes were all typical, perfectly so…revealing but not giving away too much for free. Also, her make-up was spectacularly overdone. Sometimes, he wondered if they did it on purpose. Besides for covering blemishes or accentuating certain features that would be otherwise lost under the harsh and lousy street lights. He couldn't help but think the thick mask of concealer, mascara, lipstick and rouge made them feel hidden, safe even. The hooker wasn't really them. It was just a persona, a role they played.

For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, this girl's façade seemed even more a contrivance. Maybe she wasn't just protecting a fragile soul, the girl she used to be…

"I already told ya," So-Called Kandy repeated her claimed ignorance. "I don't know jack shit about no murder."

She resumed chomping on a rather sizeable wad of gum. Oddly, it was attractive in an unattractive way. And boy, she had done her homework. Even her mannerisms, her words were canonical hooker. She was every working girl Lupo had ever encountered. She had in common with the others what she should. And she possessed the individualistic differences where you'd expect to find them.

"Word is that you like high stakes jobs," he informed her of the intel that had lead them to her. "High risk, but equally high pay-off. Just like the little soiree Madello held for his best clientele last Tuesday night."

Crossing her arms across her ample bosom, she chomped away at her gum in a most recalcitrant manner. Hookers didn't snitch to cops. She got that right, too.

Worn. She looked worn.

Exhaustion was etched into her rather comely features-which he couldn't help but notice even with the caked on cosmetics. That was what made her so genuine, despite the doubt persisting deep in his gut. She had that elusive, emotionally-depleted appearance, a secret repressed burden threatening to burst and drown her. It was a look that informed you that you were witnessing at a woman who had suffered, had been dealt one of the lousiest hands known to mankind. She had seen some reprehensible shit and performed some deplorable acts.

And that's what made him shove aside the notion that she was a complete imposter-not that he could figure out why anyone, and her specifically, would want to pretend to be in such a horrid, detestable situation.

In his mind, for a reason he couldn't fathom, he had grouped her with the lady VICE cops who posed as prostitutes on a regular basis. They were good at what they did, good enough to fool the average desperate john, but they weren't the real deal.

It was in the eyes.

Oh, they had a tiredness about them, but it was the fatigue of cops weary from dealing with the dregs of society. The real ladies of the night were weary with life.

But not this girl.

Not yet anyway… Although she sure as hell was well on her way, she was no veteran of the street.

"You haven't been on the street very long, have you?" Lupo asked, finally realizing what had been bothering him. She was at least in her mid-twenties. And, unfortunately, most girls got trapped into the life in their early teens.

Only for a moment she glanced at him, but he caught her startled expression nonetheless. The question had surprised her, and for however briefly, her face had changed and he saw something flash in her eyes. And the detective knew he had been right all along to question the veracity of the tableau before him.

It was all an act. She hadn't been driven to such disreputable state at all. But why had she opted for the pretext? And how could he get her to talk?

"Why take such risks?" he thought aloud, not really expecting her to answer. She continued to satisfy his presumed expectations and remained silent. But he was on to her…

"Hey-I'm not saying I was there-but if the money's good…"

Classic hooker attitude. Silently, he scrutinized the young woman lounging in a deceptively nonchalant manner across the interrogation table from him. Remove the make-up, the cheap clothing, and you'd have one hell of a beauty on your hands. And it was the kind of beauty that could only come from a maintenance of health not generally obtained by those of the social class that tended to fall victim to such a seedy world. No, money may not have been abundant for her, but it hadn't been a problem either…

More than that, there had been people that had taken good care of her, that she probably still could return to for assistance, were she actually in dire enough circumstances to consider selling her body.

"I didn't witness anything," she reiterated once more, mistaking his silence and impassively appraising gaze as an interrogation tactic. "Even if I was there, I don't get paid to _see_. I get paid to _do._"

She leaned in, giving him and the world in general an unobstructed view of her assets, which threatened to spill out of the low-cut tank that was somehow passing as a shirt. At least tube-tops were obviously not an option for one so generously endowed…

"Though, I have been paid to _watch_ on several occasions," she added in the sultry and forced falsetto of the seductress-for-hire.

She was blatantly trying to distract him, throw him off. A less than keen observer would assume that she did not want to be coerced into admitting what she had witnessed, that she was afraid of the consequences of giving testimony against dangerous men. But Lupo was almost certain that it was because he had caught her in whatever lie she was hiding. But he had yet to figure it out, and he wasn't going to give up…

Without a word, he placed his hands on the table, rose from his seat and left the "prostitute" alone in the interrogation room. He needed his partner's opinion.

"What do you think?" he asked the man staring contemplatively through the two-way mirror when the door had closed behind him.

"I think she likes you," Detective Green informed his partner. It might have been a joke, exemplary of the man's dry wit, except Lupo felt a latent vibe of the same nature, buried beneath the layers of the woman's hostility and other defenses.

"Wanna give her a crack?" Lupo asked, hoping to gain some insight off the experienced detective.

"Nah," the man responded. "Like I said, she _likes_ you." He paused to scrutinize the less-than-talkative witness again. Lupo could tell his partner had picked up on the same aberration that he had. Something just wasn't right about this unassuming cliché of a hooker. Shaking his head, Green seemed to come to a conclusion. "No. If she's going to open up to anybody, it's gonna be you."

"Alright," Lupo conceded in feigned defeat, working the muscles of his neck over with a large hand. Truth was, he was desperate to put the pieces together, dying to know what picture the puzzle (which his brain insisted was there) would form.

Entering the interrogation room once more, he leaned over the table to look her in the eye. He was too agitated to sit. If he did, his fidgeting would no doubt give away his frustration and eagerness to dissect her persona. Because if she was this good at forming such a pretense, then she must be an efficient observer.

"What's your story, Kandy?" he asked out of frustration, already knowing what her response would be…intractable as ever. "Why the façade?"

Again, the mask fell momentarily. He was on to her, and now she knew. She wouldn't let her guard down so easily anymore.

But he could figure this out. He _needed _to figure this out, and not just for personal reasons, or so he tried to tell himself. His gut told him this was the key to cracking her, to getting her to admit what she had witnessed, to catching a murdering bastard. Pacing the room, he mulled over the problem.

So, what exactly did he know about her?

It wasn't a matter of necessity that had turned her to prostitution. Money was obviously not really a problem for her. He could tell that, if anything, she was smart enough that she could've just taken advantage of some wealthy bastard. Cleaned up, she'd look right at home on the arm some rich old guy, or senator's son. And she obviously had the wit and skill to pretend to be a pretentious trophy girlfriend…or practically anything.

If it wasn't money that made her take such risks, what other reason could there be? Why did people do things? Because they had to, which she obviously didn't, or because they wanted to…but why would she want to sell her body? Did she get thrill from it? That didn't seem fitting with the girl he saw behind the mask, who was startled and afraid that he'd find the truth. But it had to be because of the experience, not because of necessity. For some reason, she wanted the experience…

She was an observer who wanted the experience. And she pretended to be something she was not. Actor, maybe, preparing for some bizarre role? No, if anything actors were quite reliably needy. She would've spilled her beans by now, wanting an audience to appreciate her skill and prowess, to praise the superb act she had put on. But what other kind of person made it their business to observe others, and craved dangerous situations?

That was it, had to be!

He circled around so that he could read her face, not wanting to miss her reaction. Admittedly, he knew part of him would take pleasure in the expression of defeat on her face. He didn't especially like that part of him, but it was there nonetheless, and it didn't want to miss this.

But he had to be sure first…

"Can I see your hands please?" he asked in what he hoped was his most charming, innocent voice. She gave him a suspicious look, but conceded to his request in the end. Pushing away the startling tingling sensation he felt when he took her hands in his, he proceeded to examine them. And there it was…the proof. Many people held their writing utensil in such a manner as to develop a callous on the inside of their fingers. The large lump on the middle finger of her right hand indicated that she was an extensive note-taker. Busted!

He released her hands and moved in for the kill, keeping his face impassive, craving the shock and surprise that would no doubt consume her.

"Kind of crazy lengths to go just for a story," he suggested. Her round, brown eyes grew even larger as the Hardened Hooker mask dropped entirely. He definitely had hit upon the core of the matter. "Don't you think?"

She swallowed hard and tried to look tough but failed. Her entire demeanor had changed, collapsed around her. She looked timid and much more nervous than the callous call girl she had purported to be. And her real personality seemed much more endearing, so much so that he actually felt remorse for crushing her.

"The only way to get noticed is to have the most innovative, novel perspective," she spilled her guts. He had exposed her completely and her ingenuous expression betrayed her as the type who would desperately justify her choices, needing and wanting approval.

"Sensationalism," Lupo said disapprovingly. She had put herself through god-knew-what just because of the blood-thirst of society for the sensational. Apparently, she agreed, releasing a melancholic sigh and refusing to meet his eyes. "Was it worth it? Worth the risks you took, _the things you saw?_"

"I can't give a statement," she insisted once more, this time he could see that she was remorseful for her refusal to help. "If I testify, the truth will come out and all of my work will be ruined. The last two years of my life would have been for nothing."

Green was right. She _did _like him. There was no real reason for her to justify her refusal to anybody. It was enough that she said 'no.' Her justification did not matter to them. It only meant that a murderer would go unpunished. But still she tried. No doubt she wanted Lupo to understand, wanted his respect.

And he would not give it to someone who ignored their conscience, despite how pretty, charming and apparently intelligent they were.

"How will helping to put a murderer in jail hurt your story?" He tried to find a way around the conclusion to which her logic had led her. "Won't all the publicity there will no doubt be help your exposure?"

"Not if my book isn't published yet," she insisted. "And I am nowhere near a final draft. If my true identity is known, my cover is useless."

"Madello is a monster," Lupo tried to plead his case to her social conscience, which had to be there, considering the story she had sacrificed so much to bring to light. "Are you really going to let him walk, free to abuse and kill, just so you can get some journalistic glory?"

Were those tears making her eyes glisten?

Guilt stabbed at his chest. Why was he remorseful about hurting her feelings? He was a cop. And she was just another witness, like any other. Right?

A tense silence descended between the pair. Apparently deep in thought, she chewed her lip in what Lupo would consider an endearing idiosyncrasy under normal circumstances. But he was currently fighting the sympathy he so badly wanted to bestow upon the woman, as well as suppressing the innate attraction he was developing for her, all while simultaneously trying to figure out a solution to the conundrum.

"Call girls never give you their real names, do they?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"As you know, they tend to be a little tight-lipped while in police custody," he replied, frustrated beyond reason. In such situations, he couldn't reign in the sarcasm.

"Then why can't I testify as the call girl you got a material witness warrant for?" An intensity entered her demeanor, pushing the anxiety to the wayside. She had formed some sort of plan. He hoped it was a good one, one that met both their needs. "Then, no one has to know about the book I'm writing. If you hadn't figured it out, none of you would be any the wiser. I'm just a hooker who witnessed a murder."

Lupo was fairly certain that it would be skirting the edge of perjury, but for her he found himself willing to run it by the experts, and even argue in its favor.

"I don't know," he said slowly, unwilling to commit to anything lest he couldn't fulfill his promises. "I'll have to run it by the district attorneys."

She smiled at him.

"I'll try my best, Kan-what's your real name anyway?" he inquired, rising to leave before she caught him blushing.

"I rather not," she responded. "It's my only insurance that you don't screw me over."

Ouch. Smart, and sharp when she wanted to be. Not to mention attractive. He needed to stay away from her if at all possible…

**A/N: I think there will be more…**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Law & Order or its characters

**Disclaimer: I don't own Law & Order or its characters**

**Author's Note: This is where it stops being more than just peripherally Law & Order-esque, because, to be honest, I'm really just playing here, like a kid with a brand new toy. There's no plot outlined, not even in my head, beyond some things I think will happen. So if you're looking for intense suspense, I have to apologize and give you the chance to escape. That being said, enjoy?**

The conversation kept running through Detective Lupo's mind, but he still couldn't believe the turn of events.

"_You can testify under your call girl alias," ADA Cutter had conceded._

"_Good. But I want protection. From what I what I know about Madello, I'm risking more than my career by testifying."_

"_Alright. Protective custody can be arranged."_

"_I want Lupo."_

Why did she have to say it _that_ way? Why did she make the request at all? Green's eyebrows had risen so high they had threatened to join his hairline. His partner would never let him live it down.

And now he had to babysit the so-called hooker.

The worst part was that he wasn't sure whether he was entirely resentful about the assignment. He hazarded another furtive appraisal of her appearance as she inserted the key into the lock and turned it with an audible click. Still in the same awful, off-putting hooker garb and cheap make-up as when they picked her up, but somehow she was more attractive. Perhaps it was because she had dropped the act, and that he found her genuine personality rather appealing.

He gently pulled her out of the way and entered the apartment before her, just in case. There didn't appear to be anyone in the main living areas, so he gestured her in.

"Which room is yours?" he asked. She pointed to a door a few yards from where he was standing.

He slowed as he approached, hearing noises from within the room. By the sounds of it, someone was trashing the place. Not a good sign for someone who hadn't wanted his life complicated by a protection detail in the first place. What was the likelihood that it _wasn't_ trouble behind that door?

Not much.

Motioning for So-Called-Kandy to stay back, he took a deep breath before bursting through the door with his gun drawn. Within seconds, he ascertained that it wasn't a potentially life-threatening situation. Two women, done up only slightly less provocatively than his ward (probably because they were 'off duty') stood near the dresser through which they had been rummaging, their expressions fearful and shocked.

"Calm down, Lupo. They're my friends," Kandy announced, tiptoeing into what once had been her bedroom, avoiding stepping upon the remnants of what once had been her possessions. "But why my _friends_ would be pawing through my things, I have no clue."

_Play-acting for her friends, now…_

Lupo holstered his weapon. This was the sort of problem that a man should know better than to allow himself to get in the middle. Judging from the looks in their eyes and the posturing that commenced as soon as the shock of his startling entry wore off, it could very well degenerate into a classic cat fight. And as So-Called-Kandy's designated defender, he would probably have to get involved at that point.

This did not look to be fun. Of course, wasn't this the theme of _Penthouse_ forums and guys' fantasies everywhere? 'My day started off as usual…you know, taking a hooker-turned-witness into protective custody. We stopped by her place to pick up a few necessities she couldn't live without…and before I know it, there's three half-naked girls going at each other…'

"He's just a friend of mine," Kandy explained, attempting to placate the fury and contempt of the two women. Apparently the roommates didn't appreciate her bringing home an armed man who "had cop written all over him-and what the hell is going on here?"

"Normally, I wouldn't give a damn who you bring home, _putita_," said the olive-skinned one with straight red hair that was obviously not hers. Lupo couldn't tell if the Spanish pejorative was a term of endearment or insult, but she definitely seemed pissed at So-Called-Kandy. "But we found your papers, your little notes!"

So-Called-Kandy's face turned ashen, apparent even despite the concealer and rouge.

"You spyin' on us, bitch?!" the black girl with blonde plaits got straight to the point. She violently swiped up a pile of paper from the top of what probably used to be a well-organized vanity. And suddenly, it was raining yellow-business-legal-with-blue-ink in a flurry. Judging by the force at which she hurled them, the betrayed hooker no doubt meant for the wad of papers to somehow harm So-Called-Kandy. When they failed to do so, besides making her flinch, the enraged roommate spat on them where they fell at the contentious spy's feet.

"It's not what you think," the accused said softly, as if she knew there was no way to convince her once-friends.

"What are we supposed to think?" retorted the Latina, who seemed much less furious, or at least in more control. "You go missing, picked up by the cops. Then we find these papers about _us_. And to top it off, you sick the _policia_ on us?!"

"C'mon, Carmen, Cherry! I didn't rat you guys out," So-Called-Kandy pleaded. "And I would never get you in trouble. You're my _friends_. _You took care of me_."

"Well, we ain't your friends no more, Kandy," the one Lupo assumed was 'Cherry' announced, seemingly over the rage portion of the row. With a deafening silence, the two women pushed past So-Called Kandy and her protector without even glancing in their ex-friend's direction. Lupo, however, received the evil eye treatment.

The door slammed behind them, issuing forth a gust of wind that sent papers fluttering about the room once more. So-Called-Kandy moved slowly to sit on the edge of her mattress, which was stripped clean of sheets and thrown off-kilter by the intruders' frantic scouring of the room. Her back was to him, but Lupo was fairly certain that silent tears were turning the cheap cosmetics into torrents of pigment upon her cheeks.

His instinct as a man was to back off. A crying, emotional woman was never a pleasant thing with which to entangle one's self. Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury of employing avoidance tactics, seeming as he was being forced to watch over her, and for comfort's sake that meant dragging her home with him.

Sobbing could be a bitch to try to sleep through.

And then there was that part of him that he had tried to bury, but apparently was refusing to die. Frustratingly admitting to himself that he cared about this woman who was a virtual stranger, that the thought of her distressed unsettled him, he conceded to the compassionate side of his nature.

"Uh..." he hesitated, standing over her. Calling her 'Kandy' seemed somehow so inappropriate at the moment. That wasn't who she really was, and that wasn't who was hurting right now in front of his eyes. So, he just went with the usual, hackneyed utterance generally uttered in uncomfortable situations such as these. "Are you okay?"

A large sniffle belied her assurance that "Yes, I'm fine."

_Fine? _This was worst than he thought.

He sat down beside her, not knowing her well enough to feel at ease touching her. It could be that she was one of those people who never wanted comforting when they were upset. He hoped that merely his sympathetic presence close-by would be enough. If she wanted more, she'd have to initiate it.

And she did, taking him by surprise as she turned and threw her arms around his neck. His own hands flew away from her body, shocked and apprehensive to touch her perchance it was inappropriate. His resolve melted however as she began to sob heartily into his chest.

Holding her close, he let her cry out all the anxiety that had no doubt been building since she had first taken on her cover, suppressing her true self. It was the expression of nerves worn raw from struggling, from fighting her nature, from doing and _seeing _horrible things, things she'd probably never speak of to anyone.

Such stress, he could understand. Most of his life, he'd had nobody. Even when he had somebody, he had nobody; no one with which to share his secrets, his feelings. And he didn't mind it really. Rather, he'd grown accustomed to the isolation, so much so that he automatically distanced himself from those around him.

If she wanted to express without sharing, that was fine by him. He'd hold her until she'd recovered her composure.

Then he'd take her home and keep her safe. For something more than duty compelled him to do so…

**A/N: As you can see, I am slightly unsure of Lupo's character…and I hope my OC isn't too awfully two-dimensional. There will be some Green-Lupo interaction later on, although Green is problematic for me, having been developed for years on the show, and my familiarity being rather limited. **

**A/N2: Also, pretty sure that her testifying under an alias and getting Lupo to be her protection would not actually work/be possible, but I really just wanted to play! Can you blame me?!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Law & Order or its characters…**

**Author's Note: Um…yeah… When I wrote the majority of this fic (it really just needs gaps filled in) I had only seen the first five or so episodes. Hence, my Lupo is the more timid and shy one of the earlier episodes before he really became confident as a detective… (Just FYI…or an excuse for my lack of adherence to character) **

"Whoa," Lupo said breathily, unable to suppress the sentiment upon seeing his unsolicited ward all cleaned up. She had emerged from the bathroom scrubbed to a glowing level of cleanliness and smelling of some tropical fruit he could not identify, that was definitely not a scent typical to his toiletries. Without the mask of make-up, she looked at least a hundred times more alluring, which made the task of coherent thought near impossible.

Fumbling from embarrassment, he attempted to recollect the blanket that had fallen to the floor and tuck it over his bed that he had been making up for his uninvited guest. This wasn't right. Witnesses weren't supposed to unsettle him; _he_ was supposed to unsettle _them_.

"Sorry, It's all I have," she apologized, her freshly-washed cheeks turning pink with a self-conscious glow. She tugged at the hem of a snug camisole, a futile attempt to cover her navel and the tiny, equally snug shorts below. "Actually, everything else seems a lot worse, now. I mean…I had grown so accustomed to running-around half-naked, I didn't even realize it anymore. Not that I liked it! Or that call girls dress so gratuitously all the time. Because they don't! It's just that you stop realizing at some point…"

She trailed off, her ramble stymied by the realization that her newly proclaimed protector was staring. When she began to wring her hands nervously under the scrutiny, Lupo finally realized the harsh cruelty of his absent-minded act.

_Rude! It was incredibly rude to stare at her like that!_

"Uh…you can have the bed," Lupo said, hastily averting his eyes. "I'll take the couch."

He made for the door before his willpower ran out and he began to stare salaciously again.

"But I wasn't exactly invited," she protested to his back, causing him to pause in the doorway. "I don't want to kick you out of your bed, too!"

The thought of sharing his bed with the woman he was undeniably attracted to flashed in his mind, stimulating amatory impulses. He forced his eyes not to stray from her face, which admittedly didn't dissuade his desires all that much.

"We can switch off," he growled before making an expeditious exit. It sounded more like he was angry at her intrusion into his life than desperately trying to control his thoughts. And he hoped she took it that way and would give him some space. This assignment was already proving one of the most difficult he'd ever undertaken.

…

Lupo awoke in the middle of the night to a whimpering and the absence of his supposedly loyal best friend from his side. Moaning, he sat up and groggily attempted to find the source of the whining.

"Where are you, Otto?" he uttered softly, and the whining stopped. It was replaced by a scratching noise, which judging from the direction, had been turned upon his bedroom door.

"Come 'ere, boy," he called the forlorn creature to him, and granted it the attention it had so craved, heartily scratching the dog behind the ears. "You stuck on her, too?"

He sighed. "Well, she's all yours, friend. Off-limits to me."

…

Cyrus dreamed of a quaint farmhouse tucked amongst rolling fields of wheat. The sky was an expanse of blue dotted with the odd white cumulus cloud. The golden rays of the sun were transformed to a warm glow as they passed through the thick and aged window glass, cutting a swathe of buttery bliss across the cozy kitchen. A stack of pancakes were placed before him, thick and tempting like none he had ever laid eyes upon before.

His stomach growled its jealously, startling him awake.

A heavenly odor filled the apartment, one that flooded his mouth with saliva and turned the pleas of his stomach almost painful. He couldn't even think of the last time he had smelt anything so delicious.

When he entered the kitchen, he found a delectable spread upon his normally lonesome and disused table. So-Called-Kandy was at the stove, humming an upbeat tune to her self and bobbing up and down to the beat. Otto was waiting patiently by her side in the hopes of securing some crumbs or treats. When he realized his master's presence, he got up and made to beg foodstuffs off him instead.

Taking notice of Otto's departure, her gaze followed him until it encountered the lethargic intruder. Alarmed by her intense inspection of his person, Cyrus would've checked himself, had he not already made sure he was-more or less-decent before following his nose and the tantalizing aroma. Suddenly, he didn't feel so bad for his wandering eyes the night before. Although what she could possibly find appealing about a barely-rolled out of bed version of him, he didn't know.

It wasn't actually all that long that she seemed to survey his appearance before she broke into a cheerful smile.

"Pancakes?" she offered, transferring the ones from the frying pan onto a plate with an already Pisa-worthy stack.

"You didn't have to…" Lupo said, taking a seat in front of the most glorious stack of pancakes he had ever laid eyes upon. It was all he could do to prevent himself from stuffing as many into his mouth as possible that second.

"The least I could do is make breakfast after imposing on you like I did," she replied, taking the seat across from him. At first, he had been glad to see she had borrowed his robe, but it didn't really help all that much. She had failed to close it and cover the same form-fitting items that had distracted him the previous night. Fortunately, his stomach's desires were much more vocal and he had the restraint not to stare.

When she proceeded to douse her own plate in syrup, he took it as a cue that he could commence the total obliteration of his breakfast and eagerly tucked into the heavenly pancakes. They were thick, but not heavy and cooked to golden brown perfection. And maybe he was just abnormally hungry, but he could easily convince himself they were the best thing he had ever tasted. Forcing himself to savor them a bit, he restrained the overwhelming urge to ravage the food.

"Why did you?" he managed to ask between bites. She gave him a look that announced her failure to follow his train of thought. "uh… 'impose' on me?"

"I felt like I could trust you for some reason," she replied, her cheeks turning pink and her eyes averted.

"You don't feel you can trust your family?" he probed, the still enigmatic houseguest replacing his hunger for food with curiosity. She seemed surprised by the comment momentarily.

"How do you know I even have a family?" she shot back at him defensively.

He raised his eyebrows at her and gave her a _Hello?_ Look. "Um… _detective_."

"Right," she conceded, realizing how silly it was to be shocked by his ability to read her when he had most certainly already proven his dexterity at uncovering her truths. He had taken her in, so she figured that she at least owed him some sincerity…or an attempt at honesty. "I cut myself off from them when I undertook this project."

"In other words, you didn't tell them what you'd be doing," he interpreted. "And you still don't want them to know."

"Are you on duty, today?" she asked, blatantly changing the subject, and barely ashamed at the obvious ploy.

"Yes," Lupo replied, deciding to let her reluctance slide. He'd get every last detail of her life out of her…_later_. Now wasn't really the time. "Actually, I had better…"

So-Called-Kandy nodded her head in acknowledgment of his informal request to be excused. Behind his back, she shook her head, wondering at his tendency to trail off. Soft-spoken didn't quite cover it. And yet, he seemed to lack no confidence when he had been grilling her the previous day.

…

He wasn't sure exactly how it had happened, but So-Called-Kandy was straightening his tie for him, making him feel incredibly uncomfortable. It probably would've been wiser to keep his daily struggle with the issue in the privacy of his bedroom, instead of wandering about the apartment like he wasn't housing an uninvited guest.

"There," she said giving him a cheery smile and patting the tie flat against his chest. The smile was too cheery, easily identifiable as forced. She was covering something. But hell, when hadn't this woman been hiding things from him?

The pause in which he failed to say 'thanks', too busy dissecting the troubled soul before his eyes, stretched into awkwardness. She stepped back slightly, but not far enough to quit his personal space.

Her eyes changed almost imperceptibly and the forced smile faded into a more neutral expression. At least, it wasn't one of loathing; she didn't hate him underneath it all…

"Janelle," she spoke softly. "My name is Janelle."

She held out her hand and he accepted it.

"Nice to meet you, Janelle," he said, his spirits uplifted by the sign of trust. Not only did she not hate him, it was possible that she liked him. "I'm Cyrus."

"Cyrus," she repeated, mimicking the standard, formal greeting custom. Perhaps, they lingered too long because the situation turned uneasy once more.

Thankfully, there was a knock on the door, breaking the strange tension of two strangers finding themselves thrust into an intimate acquaintanceship. Lupo gratefully answered the door and invited inside the plain clothes officer he found there.

_Another strange woman in his apartment?_ He should've at least straightened the place up a little. Of course, he hadn't exactly expected his home to become New York City's answer to the Witness Protection Program.

"Um…Kandy," He had never really liked the pseudonym and now that he knew her real name, it was more difficult to use it. "This is Officer…"

"Despatie," she offered gruffly. This was obviously a less-than-ideal assignment for her, too. At least the critical eye the woman turned upon the writer-turned-hooker-turned-witness was that of a police officer. He had more than his share of witnessing cat fights. Any disapproval on Despatie's part was purely that of a law enforcement member against someone whose career was breaking the law.

"She'll be looking after you while I'm on duty," he explained even though every person in the room seemed to know precisely what the situation was, down to the last, awkward detail. At least, the pursed lips and immaculately woven French braid of Despatie' hair reassured him that she was unlikely a gossip. Having his partner know about the situation was bad enough. He didn't need to hear it from every single person he ran into during the course of the day.

"Um…you girls have fun!" he added quickly before escaping as fast as his feet could carry him. At least if they were busy hating him, it would give them something to do, besides noticing how sloppy a person he was. _God_, it was weird to think there were two virtual strangers in his home when he wasn't.

Well, that wasn't true.

Her name was Janelle.

**A/N: I'm still feeling like Kandy/Janelle is less than three-dimensional, possibly not even two-dimensional… (But there really isn't much more I can do about it without taking the fun out of this for me or hurting my brain).**

**Up next...well, use your imagination (unless it's better than mine...in which case you better not lest you be disappointed)**


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